A Little Hope
by ami-chan200
Summary: Chris gets a surprise visitor he never expected to see again, but can things possibly be the same as they were before? Old West.
1. Chapter One

I hadn't intended to start this yet, especially since I was planning on working on my other chapter fics, but the idea refused to stay quiet. My muses say "write" and what can I do but write?

A Little Hope (and a lot of trouble)

by Ami-chan

It had been fairly quiet in Four Corners – there had only been one bank robbery attempt the week before and the death toll for the week had only been two, one of which had been an accident. Josiah and Nathan had taken the lull in activity to work on the church, while JD was holed up somewhere catching up on his reading. Ezra was on a routine patrol and Vin, well, no one was exactly certain where he was at the moment, but he'd be back before nightfall as always.

It was early yet, but Chris and Buck were both lounging in the saloon, working their way through a bottle of whiskey. Just to pass the time. More than a few other patrons were milling about, as well, having had the same idea they had. Inez was dealing with all of her customers with her usual efficient manner and rebuffing any advances made on her person, including, perhaps especially including, Buck's.

Then, over the usual noise of the saloon a deep, clear voice asked, "Where can I find a Mr. Chris Larabee?"

"Chris Larabee?" Inez replied, glancing vaguely in his direction before she gestured expansively with the empty shot glass she had just retrieved from a table.

The man headed toward their table and stopped, looking at both Chris and Buck before his gaze settled on Chris. He was a tall middle-aged black man and he was holding his hat in his hand, making Chris wonder what sort of request he would get this time. Settlers causing trouble? More problems with the railroad workers? Cattle disappearing? The list went on and on. "You Chris Larabee?"

Chris tilted his head up and gave the man a good long look before nodding minutely. "Yup."

"I'm, ah, Tom McLane and I would have come to find you sooner if I had known, but – " Tom twitched, as if nervous, then reached out a hand for the smaller figure that had shadowed him silently, unnoticed. "Here, boy. Take off your hat now."

In the saloon's dim light it wasn't nearly as obvious as it would have been in broad daylight what color the boy's skin was. What was obvious was that he wasn't even close to being as dark as the man he was standing beside, but that didn't mean much. The boy obediently slipped his hat off and slowly lifted his head.

Chris's chair flew backwards as he stood abruptly, his shot glass crashing against the floor and spilling the forgotten whisky at his feet. The silence that surrounded them would have been deafening had they cared to pay attention to it. "Adam?" Older, yes, a harder look in his eyes most certainly, but it was Adam Larabee nonetheless. Boy always had his mama's eyes, that perfect blue. (1) He started toward Adam, but the boy stepped back, closer to the man – what had been his name? Tom? – an uncertain look on his face.

"Go on now, boy," Tom prompted to no avail. The boy stood staring at Chris critically, his eyes narrowed as if in thought.

"Adam?"

It was the repetition of his name that stirred the boy somewhat and he responded softly, carefully, "My pa never wore black. He wasn't a gunslinger either." Adam appeared to be unmoved by the stricken look that appeared on Chris's face, his own deep and disturbing emotions overriding the man's reaction.

"Remember me, kid?" Buck's own shock had finally begun to wear off. Yet, he wasn't entirely certain he believed it was Adam, really Adam standing before him until the boy's face lit up and he smiled. That was the boy he remembered.

"Buck!" He very nearly stepped forward away from Tom's side, but then he stopped and stayed where he was. "Do you still have Beau?"

"Why of course! Your pa still has Pony, too." Buck noted the narrowing of the boy's eyes and the quick, suspicious glance Adam cast in his father's direction. Shit. Well, Chris had changed and as much as Buck had tried to keep him near to "normal" he knew he'd failed miserably at it. So did Adam, it seemed.

The tension surrounding them was only too obvious. It took a nudge from Tom to get the boy seated next to Chris, though it was clear Adam would have preferred to sit beside Buck. "I'm sure you have a lot of question." Tom waited until Chris had picked up his fallen chair and sat back down, his eyes never leaving Adam who was looking anywhere but at him. "Found the boy about five years back. He looked a wreck – near starved and unconscious a few miles or so outside Ridge City." (2)

Chris's eyebrows rose. That was quite a ways from where they had lived – a good ten miles at least, and for a child to travel it alone? Amazing.

"We thought we'd lost him a time or two, but this boy here's a fighter. Didn't say anything for months even after he was well enough to move around and when he finally did it was in broken sentences, things about fire, blood, gunshots – we assumed his family'd been killed off." He shrugged at that. "Weren't gonna turn him out and we weren't keen on showing him around – white folks mightn't like it, us raising a white boy. Didn't want to see him thrown in some orphanage or put with people who wouldn't take care of him. It was years 'fore we got the whole story out of him – didn't even tell us his name for at least a year." Here Tom hesitated, then reached into his coat and withdrew a paperback book. It's cover was familiar to both Chris and Buck. "Then I saw this. It was only right to come looking."

Adam frowned, leaning toward the book. "What's that?" The cover read "The Magnificent Seven", written by a Jock Steele. When he started to reach for it, Tom shook his head and the boy's hands dropped into his lap silently.

"When we saw his name and yours in print there wasn't anything to do but come and see if it was true. By your reaction I'm guessing it is."

Adam looked distinctly unhappy. When he finally raised his eyes and briefly looked Chris's way, Chris felt the need to ask, "What happened? How did you escape those men and the fire?" His voice was rough, barely a croak.

A mirthless smile appeared on Adam's face while his hands twisted themselves together tightly either in nervousness, fear, or possibly even anger. His voice remained steady, however in a clinical and detached manner that was almost frightening. "They shot her. They didn't want her to get away so they shot her twice, though the second bullet was meant for me. They didn't check, they were in a hurry it seemed, and I guess they didn't see her move to take the bullet. Maybe didn't care. We were pushed into the house – they used something, kerosene, maybe – and lit it."

Adam's eyes went so dark they were nearly black and he clenched his hands more tightly together as if trying to draw himself out of a dark memory he didn't want to drown in. "She was bleeding to death and the fire was getting closer. There was something that she grabbed, something heavy, a pan maybe, and she tore into the wall at the side of the house where the fire hadn't reached yet. She made a hole. Wasn't very big, but neither was I. She was in terrible pain and I didn't want to leave her, but she pushed me out. She said she'd never forgive me if I didn't go – that I should run and keep going and to not look back. So I did.

"There were a couple of gunshots after that. Not aimed at me, I don't think, because they sounded farther away and I doubt I would have made it if they had known I'd gotten away." Adam shrugged; if he hadn't been shaking ever so slightly it would have been hard to tell that anything was wrong. The boy's face was like granite. Then, easily, almost carelessly, Adam grabbed at a chain around his neck and placed it on the table. "She gave me this." Chris reached for it immediately and stared at it for a long time.

"Sarah's ring."

"Grandma's first," Adam returned.

Tom's hand, which had moved to touch the boy's arm at the beginning of his tremors, tightened comfortingly before he released him. "I'll, uh, stick 'round for a few days then be on my way." When he stood so did Adam. There was a definite look of betrayal and abandonment that flashed in the boy's eyes when he was told shortly, "Stay." It was a testament to Adam's loyalty that he obeyed. It was obvious that staying was the last thing on Adam's mind.

After a moment Chris handed his son back the ring. Adam took it and placed it back around his neck and remained standing, a lost expression on his face, his eyes flitting back to the batwing doors Tom had disappeared through. At Chris's soft, "Adam?" the boy looked at him in a way that stated that he didn't recognize Chris at all. "It's all right now, Adam. It's going to be all right."

For some reason Buck got the distinct impression that Chris was speaking more to assure himself than his son. Adam, for his part, clearly didn't believe him.

-To be continued-

(1) I rewatched the episode "Nemesis" and I do think Sarah's eyes were blue. They never do a closeup (at least I think they didn't) of Adam, so I've decided that's what color they should be. Lol Interesting trivia – the boy who played Adam was Caelan Biehn, Michael Biehn's son, who would have been five or six at the time (he was born in 1992 and the episode appeared in 1998).

(2) Please note that I just randomly named this city. As far as I know it was never mentioned with the series. Also, the five years comes from 3 years of being a prick… er, angry/depressed gunslinger and 2 years in Four Corners (assuming each season was a year). Thus, Adam is ten or eleven here.

Right, another "what if" fic. I have never run across another such fic about Adam not being dead so it seemed a very good idea to work with. Of course, I'd also never seen a "child Buck" fic before either and after writing it was told by several that they liked stories where Buck was a child (where are these stories and why have I never seen them?). As always, updates will depend on how much I can keep up with all my other fics. ;)


	2. Chapter Two

Yes, I will continue to update this fic, as well as my others. I attempt to do them in order for the most part, but there are always other things that pop up and turn my attention elsewhere. Since I can only recall ever "abandoning" one fanfic in my long years of writing (and I still do intend to go back and finish that one at some point, perhaps when I figure out what to do with it), it's not all that likely I'll abandon any of these. ;) Besides, I really like Adam and what I've done with him, so you can bet I'll have fun with this.

A Little Hope (and a lot of trouble): Chapter Two

by Ami-chan

"Come on, kid. Let's go see Beau." Buck steered Adam out of the saloon before Chris broke down completely. He saw the signs and knew his friend needed a moment. Hell, the boy did, too – another second or two and his spine would have snapped from all the tension. Not exactly the best "welcome home" imagined.

Adam visibly relaxed once Chris was out of sight, though he was obviously still wary about his new surroundings and his new situation. In the bright sun Buck was able to really give Adam a thorough once over; he looked good, healthy, but there was a hardness and chill to him that hadn't been there before. Buck sighed mentally. The boy had taken after his father a bit _too_ well, even if he didn't realize it.

Immediately upon entering the stable two horses lifted their heads, the horses being nearest to the door in the designated "visitors" spots. The more private stalls in the back were reversed for the "regular" horses where Beau, Pony, Quinn, Dancer, and Seeker were currently idly waiting. The horses that reacted to Adam's presence were a small bay mare and a dun-colored gelding, both of whom Adam greeted with a pat as they passed.

"Hey Beau." The gelding's grey ears flickered wildly for a moment before Beau stretched out his long neck to get a good look at the boy who apparently smelled very familiar to him. While he lavished attention onto the gentle grey, the black gelding across from him was snorting and pawing at the floor, though Adam seemed to be ignoring him pointedly.

Buck nudged Adam lightly. "Aren't you gonna say hello to Pony?" Pony, naturally, had been Adam's favorite horse because he was his father's horse. The ridiculous name "Pony" had, in fact, been bestowed upon the black gelding by a three year old Adam who, when asked what the horse should be named, had declared, "Pony! Pony, Pony, Pony!"

Piercing blue eyes gazed up at Buck, melting him more efficiently than anything else could have. What had happened to that happy little kid he knew, that lively spirit that was nearly unstoppable in his enthusiasm and innocent optimism? Had that part of him been devoured in that fire, like it had for Chris? Then Adam turned and crossed over to lightly stroke the gelding's black head, his fingers dancing over the small white mark on the horse's forehead. "Pony," he acknowledged, as if it were a sort of death sentence. And Buck understood; admitting that Pony was here was admitting that his father was, too.

Pony's head jerked up and he neighed loudly, his head turning toward the stable entrance where Chris had appeared, a slightly haunted look on his face. No, he hadn't dreamed it. There was Adam, right there with Pony and Buck.

Adam backed away from the gelding and right into Buck, forcing him to stop his retreat, if indeed he had been retreating. The boy's head tilted up as Chris approached slowly but steadily; he barely flinched when Chris's hand touched his face just to make sure he was really there. "Adam." He pulled the boy into a hug that Adam neither responded to nor pulled away from. Chris was only just getting over his shock, while Adam appeared to be just going into it.

Selfishly, Buck was glad that his friend hadn't noticed the lost expression on Adam's face, knowing it would only upset him more. And an upset Chris was a pain in the ass to deal with.

It was the sound of someone clearing their throat that finally brought Chris back to reality, releasing Adam from his hold. The boy was only too happy to escape. Ezra stood with Chaucer, waiting for them to move so that he could put his horse into his usual stall, his eyes focused with absent curiosity at the boy. "Ezra." Chris's voice was suspiciously thick with emotion. "This is, uh, my son, Adam."

Ezra's eyebrows rose. He had, of course, heard the name. "Your son. Adam." Then politeness took hold and Ezra was striding forward and offering his hand. "I'm Ezra Standish, pleased to meet you."

The boy shook his hand, his eyes carefully taking in this new stranger. When Ezra stepped back to introduce his horse, Adam smiled widely, deciding in that instant that he liked the man. He would have liked to stay, but Adam found himself being steered away from the horses, Ezra, and the stable, even Buck abandoned him after a pat on the arm. As if that made it all better.

Chris was talking softly, telling him about the town and the people in it, but Adam only partially paid attention. Potter's, store, two daughters. Mary, newspaper, son Billy. Nettie, her niece Casey. Inez, saloon. JD, Josiah, Nathan, Vin – he'd met Ezra, knew Buck.

Then, a high piercing voice disrupted the calm that had settled around them. "Chris, Chris, Chris!"

Adam's eyes focused on the annoyance and glared. Shocked by his venomous look, the small child froze in his tracks and stared. He looked from Adam to Chris and back again, but was thankfully quiet. A woman was following along behind him, watching the scene to see what was happening.

"Hey there Billy." Chris was smiling at the boy, but Billy was looking at Adam again. "Mary," he said, acknowledging the woman who stepped up behind the child. At her polite response and glance toward his son, Chris placed his arm around Adam and explained, "This is Adam Larabee, my son."

Mary's eyes widened. Billy continued to stare, then quickly lowered his eyes when Adam's glare turned threatening. "Your son! Well, Billy and I were about to ask if you wanted to join us for lunch, so instead I'll ask if you a-and Adam would join us?"

Immediately Adam found himself disliking her, her and her squeaky son. Perhaps it was the way she looked at Chris, or the sound of her voice, or the way she carried herself, or maybe it was just some innate personality clash that made him wish she would vanish into thin air. Then, just as Chris was accepting her offer, Tom appeared from one of the buildings in Adam's direct line of sight. Tom didn't even glance their way as he crossed to the opposite side of the street. A nudge brought Adam back to reality and he walked unhappily toward the hotel where they would apparently be eating.

Adam was studying Mary. Her eyes kept darting toward him and then back to Chris; she was both surprised that Adam was there and that Chris was talking quite a bit. Why that was, Adam couldn't say, but it was clearly written on her face that this was "unusual" behavior for Chris. He probably would have thought nothing of it had the woman who had taken their order not looked as equally shocked and the shocked look remained even after she had brought them their food some time later. No one seemed to have noticed that Adam hadn't said a single word.

The little boy, Billy, stared at Adam at every opportunity, but glanced away whenever Adam glared in his direction. Finally, as if he couldn't contain it anymore, Billy asked in a loud whisper, "Are you really Chris's son?"

Adam nodded reluctantly.

"You're supposed to be dead!"

Adam winced at the piercing voice and leveled another glare at the boy. "How do you know I'm not?" He had the satisfaction of seeing Billy's eyes nearly double in shock. Chris hadn't noticed, but Mary clearly disapproved of his response, not that he cared what she thought.

"Never you mind that, Billy. You can see that Adam is not dead, otherwise he wouldn't be sitting here and eating with us." Billy didn't look all that reassured, not with the cold, glassy way in which Adam was watching him. "Isn't that right, Chris?" Mary prompted, turning back to the blond man who seemed to be staring off into thin air, lost in some thought or memory.

"Yeah, right," Chris responded, but not all that assuredly since he had no idea what he was agreeing to.

Mary gave him a disapproving look before she turned back to Adam. "So where have you been all this time? You're pa's thought the worse these past years, you know." She was saying it more to show Billy that Adam had, in fact, not died more than out of any real interest.

"Trauma does not exactly lead to coherency, as I'm sure you've observed. I was fine where I was and that's really all you need to know." Though Adam spoke without malice he was clearly being rude and knew it. Chris, however, smiled indulgently and Adam wondered if he'd heard anything he had said and then figured that he had when he spoke again.

"Adam's back, that's all that matters."

When they were finished eating, Chris stood, paid their bill, and bid Mary goodbye. Adam would have trailed behind had his father not been purposely keeping one step behind him as if to ensure that Adam was never out of his direct line of sight. Fairly soon he realized they were once again headed toward the saloon. Where else would they have gone in such a small town? Before they could reach the batwing doors, however, a woman imposed herself in front of them, her arms folded across her chest.

Chris slid to a stop, one hand reaching out and settling on Adam's shoulder, as if to stop him, too. Except that Adam had already stopped. "Forget something, Mary?"

"You can't take a child in there!" She said, pointed angrily at the saloon.

Chris's lips curled up into what might have been a smile. "Wasn't going to take a child in there. Just Adam." His arm draped over his son's shoulder as he pushed past the offended woman. Adam made it a point to cast a look in her direction, just to see how furious she looked. Somehow he got the impression that Chris enjoyed making her angry just as much as Adam had enjoyed watching it.

Adam was nudged toward the same table Chris had been at earlier; Buck was there now with Ezra and another man Adam had not yet met. All three of them quieted down a bit as they approached and the stranger at the table called out, "You must be Adam. I'm Josiah Sanchez. I look forward to getting to know you better."

After Adam had dropped into the first available seat, Chris sat down, as well. It wasn't hard to see the changes in the generally foul-tempered blond. There was an entirely different quality about the energy surrounding him, a lighter, happier glow to his face that didn't seem at all dark despite the shadows cast over him by the brim of his hat. It was as if a terrble weight had been lifted off of him and been thrown aside to be forgotten.

Then, on the other hand, there was Adam. They mostly talked around him which appeared to be fine by him. A dark, brooding air clung to Adam that was a direct contrast to Chris, as if this miniature Chris had taken on all of Chris's dark aura. The boy had a lot of heartache, anyone who cared to look could see that.

It wasn't that much later that Nathan joined them. Buck noted his arrival first, but only because Adam suddenly perked up before quickly deflating once more when it became apparent that Nathan was not Tom. "I've been hearing some crazy talk out there! You won't believe what - " Nathan stopped suddenly, studying the boy whose cool blue eyes seemed to take it every detail of him in just a glance. "You Adam?"

Adam nodded. Nathan muttered something that sounded like, "I'll be damned," as he dropped into an obviously familiar chair around the table. "Guess gossip ain't always false."

It wasn't until two more men entered that Adam suddenly realized that Chris had been waiting on purpose. Not so much for the shorter man in the odd hat, but for the taller, lanky man with the buffalo coat and slouch hat. Why this man Adam had no idea, only that it was somehow important, even more so when he saw his father and the man exchange glances. Except that they weren't just glances, it was more like an entire conversation in under a few seconds.

"Vin, JD, I want you both to meet Adam Larabee." There was a foolish grin on Buck's face at the complete and utter shock on the smaller man's - JD's - face. Vin, on the other hand, gave Adam a long, appraising look that was impossible to read, but Adam easily met his gaze all the same.

"So it's true? You really are Chris's son?"

Adam looked away from Vin long enough to give JD a look void of any emotion as he replied, "If I'm not I've been having a very long and strange dream all of my life."

"I do believe our young friend elucidated any ambiguity about that matter so we can all be assured that he is indeed Adam Larabee," Ezra put in without missing a beat.

"Wasn't that already indubitable? Other than the inital confoundment, I wasn't aware that it had been in question at all."

The silence was immediate, seven sets of eyes fastening onto Adam, who frowned back at them in confusion. It was JD that asked, "You understood what Ezra said?" Then it became clear that, had he asked another question, it would have been, "Where the hell did you learn those fancy words?"

Adam's eyebrows rose. "He was speaking English, which I believe everyone here knows." It occurred to Adam that, just perhaps, his father hadn't understood what he had said to Mary earlier. Or, at least the first part of what he had said.

A slow smirk appeared on Ezra's face and once again Adam couldn't help but like him. "It seems as if someone else of culture and intelligence has finally entered our humble little town. I'd nearly given up hope of anything as extraordinary as that ever happening here."

"I don't know about 'cultured', but I think everyone likes to think of themselves as being intelligent." Adam was smiling brightly, more animated that he had appeared all day and though Adam missed it no one else was able to ignore the flash of annoyance tinged jealousy that appeared on Chris's usually stoic face. Because Adam had yet to smile at him like that.

-to be continued-


	3. Chapter Three

A Little Hope (and a lot of trouble): Chapter Three

by Ami-chan

They stayed in the saloon for a while longer, having dinner with the other men whom Adam learned were all peacekeepers for the area. Just as Adam was beginning to think it was never going to end Chris finally excused them and, having nowhere else to go, Adam followed. There was a boarding house across the way that they entered where a stocky woman greeted them with a hesitant, "Mr. Larabee?" that made Chris pause and cast a look in her direction. "A man came by earlier, said he found out you were staying here and left some things for… for your son."

She retrieved familiar saddlebags and in two steps Adam was standing before her, taking them from her hands with a word of thanks. Chris nodded at her and waited until Adam was beside him again to begin the climb up the stairs.

There was only one bed in the room and just as Adam was thinking about the benefits of sleeping on the floor – being able to get up silently in the middle of the night, sneak out, run away, because Chris had always been a light sleeper – he found himself agreeing to share the bed. As if Chris had read his mind and there was no way he was letting Adam alone for even a second. Or maybe it had nothing to do with that and he just wanted Adam close. It seemed the latter was true as Chris seemed to need contact with him, his hand resting on Adam's shoulder and his arm trapping Adam's efficiently under his, in order to fall asleep.

Sleep didn't come nearly as easily to Adam despite his own mentally and physically draining day and it was well into the night before sheer exhaustion took hold and dragged him into sleep. It was the heavy feeling of being watched that startled Adam into wakefulness. He twitched and his arm tingled with lack of sensation that for a moment he didn't understand. Then he opened his eyes and it all came rushing back to him and there Chris was, studying him closely as if he were about to vanish at any second and he wanted to memorize this moment so that he would never, ever forget it.

He could have sworn right then that nothing had changed and they were both the same. The sunlight streaming into the window just so, his papa waking him in the morning, telling him breakfast was ready, kissing his forehead – but it wasn't the same and it never would be like that again. She was dead and the man he used to know was whatever he had become. A gunslinger. A peacekeeper. A stranger.

"I have a piece of land just outside of town," Chris said, as if knowing the exact moment to break the silence before it became too long and drawn out and began to eat at them both. "Not too long ago I got a perfect stud and a couple of good mares. I've been wanting to start breeding horses again, settle down. We can do it together."

Adam murmured something along the lines of, "All right," because a response had been expected. What else was he supposed to say? Then he was nudged out of bed and he obediently dressed, idly wondering exactly what his place here in Four Corners was going to be and if it was possible to somehow leave. Adam wasn't stupid enough to believe he was capable of surviving very long on his own, but it was still something to keep in mind.

They had breakfast at the saloon with Buck and Vin, the others apparently being busy or asleep. Adam was wondering what, exactly, he was supposed to do with his time when Buck glanced over at Chris and asked if he wanted Buck to take his patrol for him. Suddenly all the covert looks from Chris made sense and Adam watched indecision flash across his father's face before he shook his head no. "It'll be fine."

He nearly asked if he could stay with Buck. It didn't take all that much to distract Buck and the lovely woman, Inez, was certainly enough to do that and then Adam could – well, do something else. Like explore on his own. Go and see Tom or the horses or any number of things. He didn't, though, and merely followed his father at his faint gesture. To a little shop proclaiming "The Clarion News" on it, which seemed vaguely familiar though he wasn't entirely sure –

Adam's eyes narrowed at the sight of Mary Travis who seemed just a little too happy to see Chris. Words were exchanged, something along the lines of, "Watch Adam for me," and was Adam suddenly a dog or a horse to be watched? He would have been much happier staying in the saloon, but apparently Chris didn't want him in the saloon if he wasn't there and what kind of logic was that, exactly? Or maybe he just assumed Mary would be more capable, having her own kid and all.

"I'll be back soon." Chris clasped his shoulder lightly and paused just a bit longer than necessary before turning and heading toward the stables.

It took an extraordinary amount of energy for Adam not to sigh with relief as he carefully and patiently waited until Chris and Pony were out of sight. Because Marywasstaring at him, waiting for him to come into her newspaper shop and he had absolutely no intention of doing that. He turned away from her and began to head down the walkway – as expected Mary immediately called out, "Where are you going?" managing to sound annoyed and concerned at the same time.

With a sigh he turned around because it was rude to make someone talk to your back and said as clearly as he could manage, "Somewhere else." Adam hoped she caught the underlying, "away from you" that he intended.

"Your pa told you to stay _here_."

His eyes narrowed sharply and Adam gave her his best glare. The double blink and look of shock on her face told him almost too well that he greatly resembled his father when he did that. "He didn't tell me to do anything." Which was true. Never once had Chris said, directly to him, to stay anywhere. "So, good day ma'am."

Ignoring her sputtered protests Adam wandered down the walkway then stepped off into the street, heading toward the church. It wasn't out of a desire to see Josiah that he decided on the church as his destination, but rather a desire for solitude. Besides that, he thought Buck had mentioned that Josiah was already away, assisting Nathan with something or other; he hadn't bothered to catch the details.

Once inside the church he dropped onto one of the pews somewhere in the middle of the church and pulled out a worn book from his pocket. Adam soon lost himself in the words so much so that he was rather surprised when a shadow fell across his face, redirecting his attention. To Vin. Who must have followed him. He wondered if Chris had asked him to keep an eye on him or if Vin had done that of his own volition.

Vin didn't say anything, just looked at him, a curious sort of look before his eyes darted toward the book in his hand. "It's 'Hamlet', a play written by William Shakespeare." The title nor the author rang any bells and somehow Adam was not surprised. Vin was still watching him and Adam nodded slowly, as if he knew exactly what Vin wassaying even he wasn't saying anything with words, and began to read from where he left off. Every so often Adam paused to check in with Vin to interpret the words and actions of the characters, remembering how hard of a time he had hadin understanding what was going on when he had first taken to reading Shakespeare's works.

Just as Adam was about to say that he couldn't read anymore, that his mouth was dry and his throat was getting sore from all his talking, he saw Vin's eyes flit off to something that had caught his attention just beyond Adam's shoulder. He tensed immediately and did his best to ignore Vin's frown at his reaction. Adam had no doubt that it was his father that had just entered the church. That was confirmed at the familiar sound of footsteps and a hand settling on his shoulder as another shadow fell over his face.

"What's that?"

His eyes darted up, momentarily meeting Chris's gaze before he closed the book and offered, "Just a book." For some reason Adam had no desire to elaborate.

"Looks like you and Vin were getting' along all right."

Adam frowned before forcing the expression away. How long had Chris been standing there before Vin had noticed him? Or had Vin noticed him before he looked in his direction? It was hard to say. He didn't have long to think on that before Chris was continuing and though his voice was calm and low there was a tone to his voice that Adam clearly recognized as annoyance caused after a panic. Chris didn't panic like most people did, it was more subtle than that, but mama had always known he was panicking and from her observations Adam had learned to see it and hear it, too. Chris had been worried.

"You know, you were supposed to wait with Mary."

Keeping any hint of emotion from his face, Adam nodded. Not really in agreement, but more of an acknowledgement that he heard Chris speaking.

"So how did you end up here?"

Adam rolled his eyes up to meet Chris's again and replied, "I walked." Because he had. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Vin's eyes narrow faintly and he knew with only that vague impression that had probably come out sounding more impudent than he had intended.

"Adam…" The warning in Chris's voice told him the same thing.

He tilted his head faintly as he tried to think of the best way to handle Chris without upsetting him too much. Then, he decided there really wasn't a way so the plain truth would pretty much have to do. "You asked Mrs. Travis if I _could_ stay, but you never told me that I should. Since I didn't want to stay, I came here instead. It's quiet." Or it was.

Chris still wasn't entirely happy, but he relaxed ever so slightly and nodded his acceptance of his explanation. At Chris's nudge Adam dragged himself to his feet, shoving the book back into his pocket. He did his best to ignore Vin's intent expression because he knew exactly what it meant. Adam knew without a doubt Tom would never have tolerated his behavior or his explanation, but he also knew Tom was not Chris.

They meandered outside and, were, apparently heading toward the saloon until Adam stopped sharply. Only the hand tightening reflexively against Adam's shoulder made him recall that he wasn't alone and that Chris had likely nearly trampled over him. That didn't particularly bother him though. What bothered him was the sight of the man he had spent the last five years with and who he considered his surrogate father all packed and ready to go. It took Adam a moment to come to the realization that he must have made a sound – a whine, a squeak, a growl, something – because Chris reacted by tugging him closely, protectively, before releasing him again.

"I'll be in the saloon when you're done." Simple as that. Adam knew what he meant: say goodbye and come find me afterwards. So he nodded and even when he knew this had to be just as difficult if not more so for Chris – and he could feel his insecurity, his pain – Adam's own emotions were too overwhelming for him to focus much on Chris's suffering. In fact, he barely registered the fact that Chris left at all. Tom had said, he had said he'd stick around, for what? What had he said? A couple days? A few? A couple was two, right? Had it been two days, was he counting yesterday because if he was that was two, but a few could be more than two, but maybe he'd only meant that and… he didn't know.

"Are you leaving?" He watched Tom turn, saw him smile wanly, and then a large hand was ruffling his hair, clasping the back of his neck and holding him in place for a moment. "Take me with you, take me home."

"I'm sorry, boy. Your home's with your pa."

Boy. Adam was used to being called that. They'd called him that before they knew his name and as habit had mostly referred to him as "boy" even after they had learned his real name. He wanted to tell Tom so many things, that he was grateful for everything he had done, that he was the best person he'd ever met, to thank him for teaching him everything that he had, but somehow there were no words. Anyway, he thought Tom already knew.

Then he noticed Tom only had one horse with him and those words came easy. "Where's June? You're taking her with you."

"No, I'm not. She's your horse. You take care of her, you hear? And I expect you to write us regularly." He turned, searched his saddlebags and pulled out a familiar book. "Here, take this too."

Adam opened his mouth then promptly shut it again. He didn't want to cry, he hated crying, but he had a feeling if he said anything he would. So he took the offered book and held it in a deceptively light grasp though his knucklesbegan to turnwhite from the force with which he clutched it. He watched silently as a chapter in his life seemed to slam closed, not with force or violence or sighs and whispers but with glaring sun, dusty roads, silence,and a man riding away on his horse.

He wanted to scream. To break the silence, anything, but he found himself frozen in place.

#t#

Chris had disappeared into the saloon while Buck took up a position outside keeping a careful eye on Adam. Not because Chris had asked him to, but because Buck wanted to, needed to. For some reason Josiah and Nathan, who had been assisting an injured settler and had only recently returned, felt the same way. Vin joined them a moment later. They could all see that Adam was not particularly keen on being left behind.

As they all watched as Vin began to tell them about the exchange he had witnessed between Chris and Adam and they took it in wordlessly. They probably wouldn't have believed it had it not been Vin telling it to them. "Not here a day," Vin was concluding softly, "And already he's got Chris wrapped around his finger. Chris don't take that kind o' attitude from nobody – 'cept that boy."

"Adam didn't used to talk back like that," Buck offered, shaking his head. "But then things have changed, haven't they?"

"Ain't doing the boy no good if he lets him get away with that," Nathan stated, clear disapproval in his eyes.

Josiah, for his part, was grinning, but it was not a happy sort of grin, more like a grin that said he had been expecting something of that sort to happen and that he didn't like it. "Not that he's likely to correct Adam, what with his son being brought back from the dead and all. Least, not yet."

They stood in silence, observing as the man rode away, leaving Adam standing in the street a lost sort of expression on his face. Buck finally stepped forward and offered the boy a smile when he glanced up at him. "He left June."

"June?" Then, realization dawning, "That pretty little mare?" Adam nodded and leaned back just enough to lean part of his weight against Buck, who immediately curled an arm around him to hold him in place. "So, she's your horse, huh?"

"Guess so." For some reason Buck was unreasonably happy that Adam was finally showing some signs of physical affection and trust for him. He remembered Adam when he was little, always throwing himself into Buck's arms, attaching himself to Buck's leg, and now he was pleased that the boy was leaning against him, seeking comfort. If he felt as pleased now he wondered what Chris would feel when – if – Adam started warming up to him again.

"You name her?"

Adam's head tipped to the side, angling so that he could look up at Buck. "Yeah. She was born on the farm nearly five years ago." The faintest of smiles crossed his face. "She wasn't born in June, in case you were wondering."

"Oh? Then why'd you name her June?"

Adam shrugged against him. "When she's out in the light, when the sun hits her just right she's so beautiful it's like a warm summer's day. So, June."

Buck didn't try to correct him. In fact, he wondered in Adam even recalled that Sarah's birthday had been in June. Perhaps it didn't matter. "Come on, let's go see your pa." The way Adam tensed Buck thought for a moment the boy was going to protest, but he turned willingly enough toward the saloon. "Tomorrow's Sunday, you know, and after that's Monday."

"What's on Monday?"

"School, of course. Haven't you ever been to school?"

There was a mild frown on Adam's face. "Tom taught me everything he knew, but no, I've never been to school. I've read about it, does that count?"

"'Fraid not, but I'm sure you'll learn even more once you actually start going. School's right over there, in fact, no sign there yet, but it's there. Teacher's name is Miss Alice and Billy likes her well enough."

Adam stopped, glanced in the direction of the school that Buck was pointing in then back up at Buck. "Miss Alice? So, you had her yet, or is she the prudish sort?"

Buck gaped at the boy in surprise. "Adam!"

"What? You used to chase women all the time before and I doubt you've changed." There was a mischievous glimmer in his eyes as he leaned a bit closer. "Remember all those times you thought I was asleep? I wasn't asleep and I have very good hearing. It was all very interesting, too, though I don't think mama appreciated your stories much, at least I would assume not because she kept hitting you with her wooden spoons or, really, anything that was handy."

Buck groaned something that sounded like, "Oh God," followed by, "How much did you actually hear of those stories?"

"Probably too much." Adam continued to smile until they entered the saloon and then all traces of mirth disappeared once again. Buck heard himself sighing loudly. Both the boy and his father were incredibly strong willed individuals and it was going to take some sort of major confrontation or disaster to break either of them. For his own reasons, Buck hoped it wasn't Chris who broke first.

-to be continued-

Considering the time period, pretty much any "back talk" from children was considered bad. Better seen and not heard, as it were. So the fact that Chris just lets Adam's behavior go– his rudeness, blatant disregard for his authority – would mean more then than it does now. NOW it's pretty much, well, expected. LOL


	4. Chapter Four

A Little Hope (and a lot of trouble): Chapter Four

by Ami-chan

Chris was downing a whisky as they entered the saloon, but his eyes immediately turned toward the batwing doors, watching them with a certain desperate intensity as they approached as if weighing their every movement, every thought. "Thought we'd head out."

Of course. Get him away from the town onto whatever land it was that he had, show him the horses, win him over. That was typical, right? "All right."

"Boy's got hisself a pretty little filly," Buck offered, just to break the heavy stare passing between father and son. As expected, Chris's gaze focused onto him, but only briefly before returning to Adam.

"The bay?"

Adam nodded.

"Nice horse."

Adam nodded again.

Without another word Chris stood and started toward the batwing doors, Adam stepping back enough to allow him past. Buck only just managed to catch Chris's arm before he left. "Want me to go with ya?" Chris gave him a look that clearly said no and continued on. Adam cast Buck the briefest of looks before he followed clearly not happy but having no other direction to take.

"Oh, god, they're gonna kill each other."

"That's a cheerful pronouncement, Mr. Wilmington. Why do you say that?" Ezra ignored the fact that Buck jumped about a foot in the air, having not heard Ezra's approach.

"You kiddin' me? Ain't neither of them can talk to the other, both as hard-headed as mules, and Chris is sure as hell expectin' Adam to be that little boy he remembers and ain't no way in hell Adam's that boy anymore!"

Ezra nodded sagely. "They both are rather monosyllabic, aren't they? Chris generally and Adam when he's speaking to Chris. Yes, I can see where that would be a problem, but surely it wouldn't result in violence?"

"You know Chris's tolerance level."

Ezra grinned dryly. "Or lack thereof, yes. Well, if all else fails you could always make some excuse to check on them later."

"Could at that." Not that Buck had really needed Ezra's encouragement, but it certainly helped that someone else could see things his way.

#t#

Pony sniffed at the bright little mare; in response June turned sharply, shoving the larger gelding who snorted and backed off. The faintest smirk crossed Adam's face as he caught her and stopped any other antics she might wish to engage in. "She do that often?"

"No," he responded, knowing his father meant to ask if June was generally temperamental. "She's just letting him know his place."

Chris muttered a general agreement and seemed about to ask another question but stopped. Seeing his frown Adam guessed at the cause. He'd been about to ask if she were gun-shy, perhaps out of habit, and realized he didn't want to ask that, as if it were taboo. "She doesn't spook easily," Adam offered almost casually as he mounted up. He ignored the look his father gave him – surprise mingled with curiosity – and waited while Chris climbed into Pony's saddle.

If he didn't pay much attention Adam could forget where he was and who he was with, but more importantly he could forget where they were going. It wasn't that hard to do because June, in her typical fashion, was calmly waiting for him to let his guard down so that she could nose ahead of Pony. June detested following anyone and she was letting Pony know who was really in charge, while the mild gelding wasdoing his best to steer clear of her. About the third time she tried to sneak ahead Chris asked, "Is she always this lively?"

"Only when there's someone in front of her." Adam patted June's neck fondly as the mare settled back down, still eyeing Pony. It didn't take all that long to reach the up and coming ranch. Though determined not to be impressed – and for the most part he had nothing to worry about – the horses did draw him in. Then again, Adam had always liked horses, horses who knew when you were sad or upset, who would always listen and never judge.

The stud was an exceptional creature, but it was his color, a dark brown that looked black in places, depending on where the light hit him, with a black mane and tail that Adam liked best. Adam still only gave the stallion a cursory glance at first, in favor of seeing to June and stabling her rather than turning her out with the other horses. When he was done with that he returned to the corral to watch the stallion. "You came up earlier. To see to the horses." Though all of Adam's attention appeared to be on the horse he hadn't missed Chris up beside him and leaning on the fence.

"Yeah." Their nearly companionable silence last for some time before Chris said, almost as an offering, "He doesn't have a name yet."

Startled out of his own thoughts Adam glanced at him sharply before turning his eyes back to the stallion that was prancing under their scrutiny. "How about Horatio?"

Chris's eyebrows rose. "Horatio?"

"Or Laertes."

"Horatio it is."

Adam smirked, nodding in agreement. He'd always liked Horatio best. (1)

They spent the rest of the day with little conversation, tending the horses, fixing food, and other various chores. Chris seemed to mind the silence more than Adam did and several times made attempts to converse, but that never lasted long.

At dinner Chris finally found a topic that they were both interested in, or at least one that Adam would willingly talk about – Adam's horse, June. For a moment it was like Adam was the way Chris remembered him, animated, talkative, happy. Then the words and gestures stopped again and Adam fell silent, but that one spark was enough to make Chris all the more determined to draw his son out again. His spirited Adam was in this older, quieter, hardened boy somewhere.

Chris was almost disappointed in the fact that he had bothered to get a spare bed when night fell as he still wasn't ready to let Adam out of his sight for long periods of time. It was difficult not to run and check on Adam every few minutes and eventually he forced himself to settle down to get some semblance of sleep. It didn't last long, or it didn't seem as if it lasted long for the sound of footsteps, heavy, fast, with a note of urgency, almost desperation to them echoed through the cabin. Chris was moving before his brain had caught up with him, hurrying after the sound and the figure that was hampered only momentarily by the door but enough so that Chris was able to catch him about the waist.

"Hey, hey Adam, what's the matter?" The boy had gone limp the instant Chris had grabbed him, as if he knew it was useless to attempt any resistance at all. His eyes were vacant and staring and it took Chris a moment to realize that his son was not really awake. He continued to hold Adam until he began to stir, his eyes focusing though he made no real effort to try to get away from Chris. (2) "Have a dream?" Or, a nightmare.

There was a soft murmur of agreement and Adam actually leaned back against him and it was then that Chris noticed his son was trembling. "Adam?"

Bright blue eyes peered back at him in the dim moonlight. "I was burning alive." He said it simply, stating a fact, almost resigned to whatever it was that had plagued his mind and Chris couldn't help but wonder how many times Adam had had the same dream.

"It wasn't real."

"No," Adam agreed. "But it almost was." There was no arguing with that.

He stood there with Adam until the night's chill became too much and then he finally suggested that they go back inside. Adam balked at the suggestion, his eyes darting toward the front door uncertainly and said that he wanted to stay outside. It might have been funny and Chris had to admit that he'd teased Vin about not liking to be "boxed in", but now it made him wonder if Vin had a legitimate reason for disliking being enclosed as Adam so obviously did.

"You stay right here." Without Chris's arms holding him up, Adam sank down to the porch and sat there, hands planted in front of him and his eyes focused on the night sky. When Chris returned he was armed with blankets that he arranged on the porch before guiding Adam over. The dream must have affected the boy more than he let on because he willingly curled against Chris as if seeking wordless physical comfort and protection. This time Chris had no problems falling asleep.

#t#

It was extremely early, Buck knew that, but he hadn't been able to stop himself from heading out anyway, visions of disasters storming through his head. What he found was far from any disaster he'd ever seen, though. What he found was Chris sprawled across the porch with Adam snuggled up against him like a little puppy and a blanket thrown over both of them. Chris stirred at the first found of Beau's hooves as they neared, but upon seeing them he immediately relaxed, not wanting to wake Adam.

He tied up Beau and wandered over to the porch, peering down at his best friend and son. "You checking on me?"

Buck grinned at him. "Yup. What'cha doin' out here?"

Chris's eyes closed momentarily. "Had a bad dream, didn't want to be inside."

It wasn't hard to imagine what that "bad dream" might have been about so Buck didn't ask. Not that Chris would have responded because Adam began to twitch even though they had tried to speak quietly. If Chris was a light sleeper Adam most certainly was not, but eventually, with enough of a disturbance, Adam would wake up. Like right now.

"Papa?" If Buck's heart broke at the soft utterance he could only imagine it was that much more heart rending for Chris. He watched as Chris's eyes went wide with surprise and not a little happiness, leading Buck to believe it was the first time Adam had called Chris that since he had arrived. Adam's eyes were soft and sleepy as they blinked open, attempting to focus and Buck wondered if his own expression had gone as gentle and glowing as Chris's had. A single word and the years just seemed to melt away from Chris's face and he was the man Buck remembered him being, a little restless, carefree, happy.

"Yeah, I'm right here." Chris's voice had suddenly gone rough when it hadn't been before, but Buck chose not to notice and Adam was still lost in a partial fog of sleep to pay any attention to what that might mean. Then he was twisting away from Chris and sitting up, his eyes inevitably drawn toward Buck.

"Buck?" Yeah, Buck remembered very clearly that Adam had been very monosyllabic in the mornings when he was younger and apparently it still held today. The boy wouldn't be truly awake for another hour or so and until then they couldn't hope for a decent conversation out of him.

"Why don't you go get dressed? I'm sure you don't want to miss any of Josiah's preachin'." Adam made a sound that might have been agreement and started toward the door. "You might want to do the same thing," he added, glancing down at Chris, still grinning widely.

Chris dragged himself carefullyto his feet and Buck only managed to refrain from making a comment about how old he was getting. "You were checking up on me." It was a statement now and a question at the same time; he wanted to know why.

Unable to decide what response Chris wanted, Buck shrugged. "Checking up on _both_ of you. Go on, now. I'll make breakfast." Chris leveled him with a look that was half annoyed, half grateful as only Chris could do. After breakfast Pony and June were saddled and the three of them headed back to town together, Buck providing most of the conversation. It made him wonder if Adam and Chris were even capable of holding a conversation with each other – certainly he had difficulty talking to them and Buck rarely had trouble talking to anyone.

The church was slowly filling up when they arrived, the nearby settlers pulling in with teams of horses or oxen while others were on horseback. Most of the townsfolk were already at the church and Vin, disliking the crowd, would be at the jail Nathan, JD, or Ezra. After a quick glance around Buck spotted Nathan and Ezra and figured, by default, that JD was on duty with Vin.

"Ezra?" Chris asked, sounding surprised.

The gambler stopped and calmly eyed their leader. "Why, Mr. Larabee, to what do we owe this occasion? I, on the other hand, am almost always here on Sunday but I do not believe I've ever seen you here." If anything, Chris's surprise increased. He was saved an explanation when Josiah chose that moment to appear.

"I do believe Chris has witnessed a miracle and that will bring any man to religion." Josiah didn't add "again" because he'd never suspected that Chris was particularly religious in the first place. He would have been right. It was only chance and Buck's suggestion that he was there at all.

Adam didn't seem at all interested in their small talk and his eyes were wandering around at all the people swarming around the church, mostly because it was the only one for miles around. If they wanted to go to church their options were very limited. Then, out of no where a young girl appeared, imposing herself directly in Adam's sight. "You must be Adam." She stuck her hand out without a hint of shyness or modesty, not that Adam noticed; the women in his life had been neither. "I'm Stacia Potter and that's my sister, Ann," she gestured vaguely behind her where a presumably younger – smaller, at least – sister was standing in her shadow. "You can sit with us."

Before he had a chance to open his mouth Stacia was tugging at his arm and he was forced to follow or fall flat on his face – Adam chose to follow. Stacia was a few years older than he was and quite a bit taller, which made it all the easier for her to manhandle him. He was aware of Buck's low chuckling, but he managed to ignore it in favor of listening to the animated girl's voice and gestures. In a few minutes he figured he'd learned her life history and most of the details of the town and its occupants. Only when the service had started, his father slipping into the pew beside him just before, did Stacia fall silent.

It occurred to Adam that no one was really listening to Josiah except for a few of the older women and men that were hanging on his every word. Most of the occupants of the church were staring off into space probably thinking about the crops or cattle or horses or whatever it was they did during the rest of the week. But it was peaceful and maybe they were here just to relax, to give their minds a bit of ease that they might not otherwise get. For his part, Adam thought of words and numbers and impossible events all of which flowed through his mind like pages in a book and he wondered, with endless optimism what more he could find out in school.

When church had ended Adam was corralled by a group of curious girls and questioned endlessly until his father called him back. He was immensely glad to be able to slip away from under so many scrutinizing eyes, though since they were heading to the store, which was open now church had ended, Stacia and Ann were inevitably close. That didn't bother Adam, though. They were getting supplies for school, after all.

-to be continued-

(1) Horatio and Laertes are from "Hamlet"; Horatio is Hamlet's bff and Laertes is Ophelia's brother.

(2) Contrary to popular belief it is not a bad thing to wake a sleepwalker. In fact, it's probably a good thing. Especially if there are knives or stairs or walls or breakable items around. Sleepwalking is common in children, but usually stops around the age of thirteen (if it stops at all).


	5. Chapter Five

Oo It suddenly struck me as I was looking over the fics I've temporarily abandoned that… abandoning this fic (even temporarily)is a bad thing. I'm not sure why, I suppose I like Adam too much even with all the awkwardness and his annoying ability to give me writer's block. Lol

A Little Hope (and a lot of trouble): Chapter Five

by Ami-chan

"Boy's going to be trouble," Buck informed him, only half serious, as the young girls of the area quickly surrounded Chris's son. Chris nearly asked if he meant because of all the girls that had taken an interest in him until he saw what Buck was looking at – the boys, at least the ones around or older than Adam's age. They had gathered together, as well, and their attention seemed to be focused on the girls and Adam.

"Maybe right there."

Buck patted him on the back. "Take it from someone who knows, boy's gonna be trouble. Not necessarily bad trouble, though."

Chris's eyes drifted to Gloria Potter's boy, Will, who was a few years older than Adam – the boy was clearly trying to decide whether he should be thrilled his sisters weren't pestering him or annoyed that they were hanging around Adam at all. "Don't think he's been around other children much."

"Girls don't mind that, Chris. Not when he's got a pretty face like that!"

He almost made a mild protest at that, except that Adam was pretty; he took after Sarah, all right. "Adam!" The children all turned at the sound of his voice, most of their conversations halting immediately. Except for Billy most of the town's children were afraid ofChris or had been told to steer clear of him by wary parents and Chris had never minded that before. Adam slipped away from the girls with a few nods and came toward him immediately, his slightly hurried steps telling Chris that he was more than relieved to escape from the small mob that had formed around him. Chris pretended not to notice when the Potter girls, Ann and Stacia, trailed after them into the general store, Will having apparently already snuck in the back way to observe.

Adam allowed Mrs. Potter to fuss over him as she gathered up the necessary school supplies and Chris just stood back and watched. He had long ago lost hope of ever being able to see Adam do something so mundane as getting ready for school and now here they were. It was likely his close scrutiny that allowed Chris to note his son's gaze returning several times to the books that Mrs. Potter always kept in stock – there were plenty of westerns because of JD and an interesting assortment of poetry and classics because of Ezra and Vin.

"Anything else you want?" Chris asked when Mrs. Potter had finally ushered Adam back toward the cash register. The first response was a quick headshake, a negative. "Adam. Anything else?" His son had actually looked at him then, more slowly, considering, but again Adam had shaken his head no even if Chris knew he didn't mean it. "Go get it." There was only the slightest hesitation then Adam was turning straight for the books, his hand immediately closing around one that he brought back and laid on the counter. Chris glanced at the cover then back at his son.

"'The Iliad'," Adam responded, his eyes glowing with quiet excitement. "Homer's 'Iliad'."

Chris didn't know what it was or what it was about, but it didn't matter when it made Adam that happy. Hell, he'd buy him any damn book he wanted if that was the reaction he'd get. "You want anything else?"

Any other child probably would have asked for candy. Adam shook his head, his eyes glued to his book. Chris asked for lemon drops anyway – they'd always been Adam's favorite, at least they had been, and truth be told he liked them too.

Buck met them outside in an all too casual manner as if he hadn't really been waiting for them but that he'd just happened to be there when they came out. "Hey, buddy, why don't you go over there and see your friends? Or there's Vin," Buck added when Adam gave him a sharp look that suggested his first comment was ridiculous.

Eager to get out from under his father's watchful eye, Adam nodded and immediately headed toward the young tracker. His expression lightened as he approached Vin as he thought about showing him his new book. He had only just sat down beside Vin when Ezra suddenly appeared and took note of Adam. "Well, now, what have we here? What does the young Mr. Larabee take an interest in reading?" Ezra glanced over the book, his eyebrows raising. "A man of culture and taste, indeed. 'The Iliad'?"

"It's a great story. You've read it before?"

"I have and I take it that you have, as well. We must certainly enlighten our less fortunate friend." That was all it took to make Adam launch into a semi-detailed explanation of the book's plot, enjoying the attention as much as he had disliked being surrounded and singled out by his peers. He had no notion of how to behave with people his own age, but adults he understood.

After a while, when he'd run out of words to say Adam turned to Ezra and asked in all seriousness, "Are Buck and my papa okay?"

Taken about Ezra nodded immediately even though he sensed another layer or two to the seemingly simple question the boy was asking. "They are fine, indeed."

Adam appeared to be about to ask or say something else when his name, called by Chris, was shouted from across the street. Both June and Pony were being lead toward them by Chris and Buck and Adam, with a glance over at Ezra, started toward them, taking the reins of his mare from Buck's hands. "Aren't you coming with us, Buck?"

"Nah, I have to stay here and protect the town, but I'm sure I'll see you in the morning." Adam didn't mind his hair being ruffled, but going back to the cabin without Buck was not particularly appealing.

As expected, there wasn't a lot of conversation on the way back to the cabin, nor when they'd reached it, either. Chores were done with minimal comments and after that they had even less to say to each other – Buck would have filled the silence somehow, but Buck was back in town. It was therefore easy to crawl into bed that night, really the "guest bed" as Adam saw it though it was apparent that it was supposed to be "his" now, even if sleep never came easy.

In the early morning Adam wandered out onto the porch to watch the sunrise. What little sleep he'd gotten had been hazy and inconsistent at best. A gentle, "Hey," brought him out of his thoughts and he found Chris crouched beside him, watching him with a parental concern. "How long you been out here?"

"Not long." It was something of a lie though it hadn't seemed as long as it had surely been.

"Come on it. I'll make breakfast."

Adam couldn't stop his immediate response, the lifting of his eyes, and the straightening of his posture. Like a dog, he told himself coldly, perking up at the hint of a treat or a pat on the head. It was impossible to stop though – papa'd always been good at cooking even if he didn't do it often. It'd been better than his mama's cooking, at any rate, and it was the one thing he still recalled with any clarity.

When he was asked to ready the horses Adam did so immediately, taking the moment to once more familiarize himself with Pony. It seemed as if the horse had not changed and the only real difference was that he, Adam, had gotten taller. Except that Pony had certainly aged, though not to the point where he'd be put out to pasture, yet it was noticeable if you looked too close. He'd aged like papa had aged, only not as severe because papa had nearly become a different person. It was easier to focus on Pony.

The ride into town was mostly quiet with a few birds and other critters providing background music for them. The noise hit once they reached town – the creaking of wagons and harnesses, the plodding of horse's hooves, the shrieking of children playing around the school, and Josiah and Nathan apparently working on repairing the church. "I'll take the horses." Adam paused, glancing at his father first and then at June, before nodding. Then he turned toward the school and didn't look back. School was just books and learning. It couldn't be that difficult.

#t#

The mare's reins were tugged from Chris's clenched fist, the motion startling Chris back to reality to come face to face with Buck. He hadn't even noticed his friend's approach. "Adam'll be all right."

"Didn't say he wouldn't," Chris returned tersely, finally moving toward the stable to put Pony into his usual stall.

"Didn't have to say anything." There was a definite smirk in Buck's words that made Chris glance back at him just to see if he was grinning as widely as it sounded – he was. "Way you stared after him like you were going to lose him, or something. It's just school, Chris. He'll be out and ignoring you before you know it."

Chris cast a glare in Buck's direction. "Not worried."

A snort sounded from Buck's direction as he led the mare into a stall and began removing her tack. "No, of course not. Chris Larabee never worries about nothing. He's the calmest, the most level-headed _cowboy_ in these here parts."

"I'm not a cowboy." Still, a small upward tilting of his lips showed only mild amusement not offense. It was Buck, after all.

"Come on, cowboy, let's do something to take your mind off the boy." Something, in a small town like this, generally meant going to the saloon and drinking. Maybe something else if they got around to it and if there was time. That was just fine with Chris.

#t#

"Class, as you know we have a new arrival…"

Adam decided rather quickly that he didn't much like Miss Alice. He was sure it had something to do with the public humiliation, the fact that she made him stand up in front of everyone while she rambled on about this and that concerning his father and the town and was there really a point to that? It was a given that everyone already knew everything she was saying. It was a small town, after all. Didn't take long for the gossips to make their rounds.

"…why don't you tell the class a little bit about yourself?"

This was not what he had expected at all. "I have nothing to add that hasn't already been stated."

It wasn't the best possible thing he could have said, Adam knew, but it had also seemed redundant to repeat everything Miss Alice had already said. In retrospect he realized that it was probably than that he'd set in motion Miss Alice's dislike of him by making a very bad first impression on his new teacher.

Adam didn't think about lunch until it was time for a break. Before he could wonder what he was to do, since he certainly hadn't brought anything with him, Inez appeared and told him that señor Larabee had asked her to bring Adam something to eat. He thanked her politely and Inez smiled at him before she turned to go. Since Inez had given him more than he could possibly eat on his own Adam ended up sharing his lunch with some of the girls that had insisted on gathering around him. Some of the girls hadn't gotten all that much to eat, anyway, so he figured it worked out.

"You remember Becky and Rachel don't you?" Stacia Potter was once more reminding him of a few of the other girls' names – he'd nodded obediently even if he hadn't truly recalled their names. The next thing he knew they were suggesting games to play. The concept of playing games wasn't completely lost on him, but the types of games the girls suggested were ones he'd never imagined before. Skipping rope, hopscotch, something called jacks, as well as others that made even less sense. Not that it stopped him from attempting to learn – their memorized little chants greatly intrigued him easily since they were not easily deciphered. It was like a sort of coded language he'd never been exposed to.

Then they'd been called back inside with the ringing of a small bell rung by Miss Alice. It had become quickly apparent that their teacher's knowledge was rather limited with even the "advanced" classes for the older children being extremely lacking as far as Adam was concerned. He was half listening to her lesson for his age group – a woefully lacking history lesson combined with some very basic grammar and arithmetic thrown in haphazardly – when the sound of a ruler hitting wood startled him into sitting up straighter.

"Adam Larabee! You are not paying attention!"

He'd stared at Miss Alice in momentarily disbelief. Of course he'd been paying attention. He just hadn't been looking directly at her. "Yes, I was."

"Then what did I just say?"

Adam asked, "Verbatim?"

There was a long silence. Then Miss Alice's face gradually began to turn a vibrant red. "Out! Get out of my classroom!" Adam, stunned, hesitated perhaps a moment too long and then he was unhurriedly gathering up his belongings and strolling out the door heedless of her shrieked vocalizations.

It took him exactly twelve steps out of the classroom for him to realize that Miss Alice had no idea what "verbatim" meant. And she was a teacher. Granted, a backwoods teacher in a small, dusty town full of outlaws of all sorts, but a teacher nonetheless. He wandered along the boardwalk a ways, pondering what to do with his suddenly free afternoon, when the first gunshots went off. It wasn't until he heard a voice – Buck's, he realized distantly – shout at him to, "Get down!" that Adam realized standing where he wasn't was probably not the wisest idea. He saw Chris's gaze fall on him quickly, wide with alarm, then focus back onto the men they were shooting at. Adam had already ducked between the buildings before Chris could glance his away again.

Watching from the shadows Adam saw three men fall, two wounded and one obviously dead. A fourth fell, his gun tumbling onto the ground only a few feet in front of Adam. No one else had seen it, or the wounded man dragging himself up to reach for the gun. Four steps and Adam had the gun in his hand, pointing it straight at the man he assumed was a criminal or at least a troublemaker of some sort.

"Hey now, kid, why don't you give that to me?"

Adam pulled the gun's hammer back, aimed at the ground near the man's feet and fired a bullet inches from him, cocked the gun again and re-aimed at the man's heart. "Got one bullet left. Care to try your luck?"

Firing the bullet had served two purposes: both frightening the man before him and alerting Chris and the others that something was wrong. It took mere moments for the man to be grabbed and hauled off.

"Adam."

He released the gun's hammer and gingerly handed it over, handle first, into Chris's outstretched hand.

"Why aren't you in school?"

"Miss Alice asked me to leave," Adam replied simply, tilting his head up to look his father in the eye. "Because she didn't know what 'verbatim' meant." Off to the side Adam heard an ungentlemanly snort of amusement and a muttered comment in a smooth southern drawl, "That woman is not what you would call educated, not in the broader sense of the word, at least."

Not distracted by Ezra's side comment, Chris asked, "How'd that happen?"

He smiled slowly, unable to hold back his amusement. "She said I wasn't paying attention but I was. So she asked me to repeat what she'd just said and I asked if she wanted it verbatim or not. She didn't know what that was so she yelled at me to leave. So I did."

Chris glanced down at the gun in his hand, then back to his son. "You've fired a gun before." He said it as if it had just occurred to him; it probably had.

"Yeah."

"You any good?"

Adam considered that for a moment. "Not too bad."

Chris grinned suddenly, his whole face lighting up. For a moment everything seemed good. Then Buck was calling Chris over and Vin and Ezra were ushering him off to the other side of the street, away from the jail. Adam focused immediately on Ezra's appealing voice and words and the intellectual debate he offered, Vin listening intently and offering his own comments now and again.

#t#

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" It was rare enough to see Buck angry. Rarer still to see him well and truly furious, his eyes blazing, near foaming at the mouth.

"What are you talkin' about?" Chris's eyes narrowed to slits as he inwardly mulled over what had just happened. His son had nearly gotten killed. Again. His son had managed not to get killed. Again. His son had picked up a gun, fired a bullet at a "bad guy" then handed over the gun to him. Seemed everything had worked out just fine to him.

"Boy gets kicked out of school on his very first day and you just glance over it like it's nothing?"

Oh. That. "Yeah, so?"

"Chris!" Buck hissed, nearly spitting in his anger. "What would your pa have done had it been you getting kicked out of school?"

Chris glared. Or attempted to. His glares had never really had much of an effect on Buck. "That's different."

"What would he have done?"

"I ain't my pa and Adam sure as hell ain't me."

Buck shook his head, grabbing Chris by the shoulder when he attempted to turn away from him. "You're going to let that boy get away with that? You know damned well your pa would have tanned your hide for less than that. If you let him think it's okay – "

"He explained what happened. Wasn't his fault." Chris stood his ground, unable to do anything less. This was Adam, after all.

"So you're going to just drop it." It was an accusation. One Chris didn't care to think on. He turned away without commenting. Buck obviously didn't understand.

-to be continued-

If you don't know what "verbatim" means, look it up. :P I'll try not to be so long with the next chapter... hopefully soon I'll be starting a new job and #gasp# actually have something of a LIFE again so... happier me with more free time will equal more chapters to post. :)


	6. Chapter Six

A Little Hope (and a lot of trouble): Chapter Six

by Ami-chan

"Buck's mad at me."

They'd just sat down for dinner back at the cabin after their eventful day – the rowdy men had either been placed in the jail or at the undertaker's, the living ones had been treated for their wounds by Nathan and would be dealt with when Judge Travis came back around – when Adam made his declaration. Chris shook his head immediately in denial. "He ain't mad at you."

Adam looked at Chris like he didn't believe him. "Is he mad at you?"

"A bit, but nothing for you to be concerned over." He glanced meaningfully at the boy's plate, silently demanding he eat.

"Is he mad at you because of me?" Adam insisted, still ignoring his food.

Chris sighed, shaking his head. "It's not your fault, Adam, you hear me? This is between me and Buck."

Finally he picked up his fork, twirling it around for a moment before setting it back down again without eating anything. "You shouldn't let these sorts of things fester. It's not productive and Buck's your friend, you have to remember that."

"I'll take care of it, all right?"

Adam didn't look convinced. "Don't lose him, papa. Not for me or anyone else." He was looking down and eating when Chris glanced up at him sharply. Neither of them brought up the subject of Buck anymore that night.

Morning found them once more heading for the town. Buck was waiting for them when they arrived, though to the casual onlooker he might have just been relaxing on the boardwalk half-asleep. Adam gave him a glance before he headed calmly and casually toward the school. Buck remained in place, his gaze shifting sideways when Chris appeared after putting the horses up. "Buck."

"Yeah?" The blue eyes said more than any words could have, but Chris still pressed on.

"Adam reminded me how much you mean to me." He sat down beside Buck, his eyes glancing over the town and its mingling inhabitants. "Still don't agree with you about Adam and don't think I ever will."

"He was being disrespectful."

Chris shook his head in denial. "Ain't going to hit him, Buck. He's my son – "

"Always said he was our boy." Buck's stare was heavy with underlying tones Chris wasn't entirely sure he wanted to deal with. "That still true?"

"Yeah." He'd always been Adam's "uncle" of a sort, always there, always willing to help out even when it was inconvenient. "Don't want you disciplining him either, Buck."

"Can't promise you that, Chris, not with the way that boy's acting."

"Buck…"

The larger man glared at him, unwavering. "I don't take this lightly, Chris, so don't think I am. If he's mine as much as he is yours then I should have a say too."

Chris fell silent, considering. "Don't know how he'd take that."

"At least someone would be putting him in his place."

"His place is with me – us," Chris amended quickly. "And he hasn't done anything wrong. Not much, anyway."

Buck snorted in disagreement as they both settled in knowing the matter hadn't been put to rest but that they had both had their say and they would take it from there.

#t#

It was expected, Adam decided, that Miss Alice should treat him like a criminal after the incident yesterday – some of the boys considered it a victory against the teacher even if they hadn't understood his intents, the girls seemed to be upset that he'd gotten in trouble and said it wasn't his fault. None of that mattered to Miss Alice, though, and she only got angrier with him as the day progressed. She wanted him to fail, as harsh as that sounded, Adam couldn't find any other way to describe her constant insistence that he give the answer or write this on the chalkboard. Not that he minded, having already glanced through the school book he'd gotten and seen most of it wasn't altogether that new to him. Still, making enemies had never been particularly high on Adam's list of things to do but it happened all the same.

At lunch the girls immediately latched onto him again and having nothing better to do, he went with them. With the rest of their time they continue to show Adam their unique games and rhymes. At least, they did until some of the older boys, Roger Haddox and Frank Masters among the forerunners of the group,choose to interrupt.

"What are you? A girl?" It was said unkindly – not that Adam seemed to take much stock in that – by Roger, the larger of the boys and the one that tended to be the spokesperson of their little band.

"Why would I be a girl?" The genuine curiosity and lack of offense seemed to startle the other boys. Their challenge had not been taken as they had obviously wanted it to be taken.

"You're playing girl games with girls, that makes you a girl," Frank put in, sneering at his apparent stupidity.

Adam stared at him blankly for a moment, processing his statement. "No it doesn't. That's a fallacious – " His words were drowned out by loud taunts of, "You're a girl!" and "Giiirl!" that for some reason was supposed to anger him. At least, that's what Adam thought they intended to do, he was just uncertain _why_. Why was he supposed to be concerned about whether they called him a girl or not? He was clearly not a girl and even if he had been a girl what was wrong with that? So what was the purpose?

"Hey, stop it! Like you're any better!" Stacia was glaring at the older boy, jump rope in hand as if it were some weapon to be used against him. "Just because Adam's nicer than you lot doesn't mean that he's a girl!"

"What, protecting your little boyfriend? How sweet." More taunting ensued before Will Potter attempted to intervene, glaring coldly at his sister and Adam in turn. "Come on, back off. This isn't getting us anywhere." Roger and Frank both poked fun at Will, pushing him around a bit, but inevitably did back away.

"Idiot," Will snapped when they'd left. "Why didn't you say anything?"

Adam barely flinched when the older boy pushed him roughly, nearly knocking him off his feet. "I did say something. It doesn't make me a girl."

Will rolled his eyes in despair. "That's not – you're strange, you know that? Anyone else would have punched him for that."

"You mean any boy would have," Adam rephrased. It was a moment before Will nodded, again looking at him like there was something wrong with his reasoning. "Why?"

"You don't want to be a girl, do you?" It apparently made sense in Will's mind.

But, "What's wrong with being a girl?" Adam received an exasperated sigh and no answer as the older boy turned away and back to his own friends. With a faint frown in place he turned back to the girls that had crowded back around him protectively. "There's nothing wrong with being a girl. I don't get it." The girls look back at him sympathetically, but offered no advice.

Adam managed not to anger the teacher and stayed the full school day, afterwards he darted straight for the saloon, his gaze briefly casting around for a familiar face – Ezra and Vin in one corner, he ignored them, then Inez behind the bar. He went for Inez. "Why, Adam, what are you doing here?" He explained the situation quickly as well as his confusion. Inez offered him an immediate smile. "There is nothing wrong with being a girl, only boys – they seem to take it as a… well, as a bad thing to be girly."

"Why is that?"

"Because girls are supposed to be weaker and boys don't want to be seen as weak."

"Girls aren't weak, though."

Inez smiled down at him, patting his hand fondly as if he were a pet. "And that, my dear, makes you a very wise young man."

"What seems to be troubling you, young Mr. Larabee?"

Adam wandered over to Ezra and Vin, and taking specific preference to Ezra, leaned against the man's chair and peered at him with mild blue eyes. "I asked Inez to explain masculine posturing to me, but I still don't get it. They seem to believe there is a distinction between games that boys can play and those they can't, when they are all just games and they are all on the odd side, if you ask me."

"You do have a point there, my friend. I really don't have an answer for you other than to say that's simply the way things are." Ezra nodded toward the saloon's entrance. "It appears as if your father has come looking for you."

"That was inevitable." Without another word Adam went to his father and Buck, who happened to be standing next to him. "Are you coming back with us?" He was pulled back against his father and patted roughly, the sort of affection gesture one might bestow upon a dog or horse. It might have annoyed me had Adam not be intently focused on Buck.

"Now why would he be coming with us?" Chris, not giving either Adam or Buck a change to respond, nudged his son out the saloon door and to the stable where their horses were already saddled and waiting.

Ezra and Vin exchanged silent, but meaningful glances, not a word passing between them as Buck settled down at the table with a sigh. "Everything all right Mr. Wilmington?"

"Sure, Ez, why wouldn't it be?"

A deck of cards appeared and Ezra began shuffling them absently. "That's what I was asking you."

"Don't worry about it, it isn't your problem." Buck's head was down so he missed Ezra's raised eyebrows and a second look that passed between the gambler and Vin.

The week passed slowly, Adam going willingly enough to school despite the fact that Miss Alice seemed to be targeting him on purpose and the boys weren't much better. Adam was dealing better with that environment than he was with anything else even with all the confusion it was at least something new and interesting. It was Chris that didn't seem to be coping very well.

"What the hell am I going to do? It's as if I am useless, like he is – course he is Adam, but he's a… "

"A stranger?" Buck suggested, taking a sip of his whisky.

"No, no entirely. Sort of, I suppose. More like a little too perfect. He does everything, most of it without me asking him to do anything at all and I think sometimes that he does chores just to avoid being near me, talking to me." Chris was glaring darkly at the table while the most of the sane occupants of the saloon were avoiding them like the plague. Except Vin, who had wandered over to join them a few minutes ago, a silent, supportive figure slouched in the corner as if waiting for something.

"I'm sure he isn't – "

Chris was shaking his head solemnly. "He is. Doesn't talk much when it's just us, barely even looks at me. Like…" He trailed off without finishing, but damned if Buck couldn't finish the thought. It was like Adam blamed him and Chris had enough guilt for the both of them without the boy around. He'd known it wasn't going to be easy for Chris and the boy was driving him closer to the breaking point that Buck had feared, with Adam showing no signs of faltering.

"Hey," Vin drawled, his voice smooth and casual, startling both of them into looking at him as if they'd forgotten he was there – they had, really, Vin being so quiet and unassuming as he was at the moment. "How 'bout I take Adam out for a bit this weekend, give ya a break."

It was a good suggestion to Buck's ear, but Chris was staring a bit blankly at Vin. "Not sure – "

"It's not a bad idea," Buck interjected, ignoring the scowl Chris sent in his direction.

"Hell, Chris, ain't gonna let nothing happen to the kid, you know that."

And Chris did know that but he was still insecure, still unable to completely let him go yet. "Vin."

Vin stood, grinning widely and clapped Chris roughly on the shoulder. "I'll take him out after school and we'll go from there. Gotta learn to let him go sometime, besides, sounds like ya need some time to sort things out." His eyes darted from Chris to Buck and back again.

"When?" Was the only word Chris could force out. Anyone else might have assumed Chris was mad but they knew him well enough to know he was glaring and scowling because he was uncertain.

"Be back before Sunday, don't you worry."

Of course Chris would worry. How could he not? Buck, however, was already planning on ways to distract him now that Adam would be out of the picture for a while.

Vin had Peso and June all packed with bedrolls and supplies enough for two days out in the desert – he winked at Adam when he saw him exiting the schoolhouse and the boy's face lit up like it was Christmas. For a moment it looked as if he would go running toward the tracker, but changed his mind at the last minute and went over to his anxiously waiting father; Buck could have kissed the boy. "You don't mind?" Chris asked as Adam quietly handed him his schoolbook, slate, and chalk. The way they talked amazed Buck sometimes. It was as if they'd already had a discussion about Vin taking Adam out when Buck knew for damned sure that they hadn't.

"It'll be fun." Adam smiled hesitantly up at him before adding softly, "Thanks."

"You're welcome, son." As if it had been his idea all along. Then Adam was headed toward Vin and the horses after he endured Chris's rough patting, gestures of affection.

No words that Buck could see were exchanged between Adam or Vin as they mounted or when they headed out of town. Perhaps it was that uncanny unspoken language that Chris and Vin seemed to share where they seemed to know exactly what the other was thinking. Was it odd, then, that Chris and Adam couldn't have the same connection? It didn't seem to work that way, however.

Buck turned his attention back to Chris. Well, he had some distracting to do and he was most certainly going to enjoy doing it soon as Chris got his head out of his ass. His hand landing on Chris's shoulder upset the smaller man's balance and made him glare coldly but ineffectively at Buck. "Come on, ol' dog, let's have ourselves another drink. Then later might head out to the cabin."

Green eyes narrowed faintly, knowing exactly what Buck was getting at and not really minding despite his attempt to make him think otherwise. "'Right then."

Buck just grinned at him. Sometimes he was entirely too predictable.

-to be continued-


End file.
